


Stand By Me

by InebriatedGlowworm



Category: AU - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood, DCU, Red Hood - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Gen, Motherfluffing Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:29:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InebriatedGlowworm/pseuds/InebriatedGlowworm
Summary: Based off the animation, Batman: Under the Red Hood. What if the Red Hood doesn't escape after the helicopter incident and was captured by Batman and Nightwing when he crashed through the construction site?Eventually goes off on a weird tangent but its where my mind went...





	1. Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter inspired by Lemmy Kilmister's "Stand By Me."
> 
> Thank you for reading! This is going to be ongoing, I'll try posting weekly or at most every two weeks. I'm new to this platform so I'm trying to figure out tags and what not. Any who, let me know what you think. Disregard any errors, I'm on a sugar hiiiiiiigh *winks, points with finger gun*

The scaffolding shook as Jason landed and barrel rolled down the outside of an art deco skyscraper. The gilded interior and metallic luster of the handrails reflect in the brief light of Jason crashing through the tarp covering the large arched windows, shattering his arm. The red emergency light beckoning in the distance leading to a staircase descending into the depths of the empty building. Stacks of construction material strewn about in an insane method, a hazard to anyone but the foreman.

He violently curses himself for being careless, but there was something about the tall menacing figure of Batman that jumbles his insides. He felt it the day Batman found him in the alleyway stealing his tires, he should have ran but that was not in his nature. He had an inkling for getting into fights he necessarily could not win.

Jason jerry rigs a splint to his now useless arm, nearly passing out in the process. Anxiety is building at the back of his mind, is this where his last stand is going to be? His plan was not yet complete, Batman was supposed to choose between killing Joker or killing him. His mind fogging with pain and decides his finale needs to be on his terms. The startling crash behind him brings Jason back to the problem at hand. The Red Hood crawls behind a stack of pipes ready to ambush Batman and Nightwing, who are tentatively making their way through the level.

 

I, Jason Peter Todd, am going fuck everything up. Story of my life, amirite? I steady my breathing, it is another set of perpetrators. I have done this many times before in far worse conditions. I pull my gun, a Jericho 941, as I hear their soft footsteps headed my way.

A couple more seconds.

Gun comes up a blazing. Three rounds hit Nightwing square in the chest, two hit Batman in his shoulder. They will be bruised to hell due to their armor but still able to function. I want to make them angry, making mistakes. But he is Batman, he doesn't make mistakes, you might say to my exasperated eye roll.

Time to change positions while they are regrouping.

The next barrage of bullets crashed into each of them several times.

A stack of wood was a leap away, I make my move and Nightwing's eskrima sticks slam into my side. He recovered faster than I imagined. I whip around to see him bearing down on me. A fist slams into my mask, cracking it. I charge into Nightwing, brutally smash him on the side of the head with my gun. He goes down.

One more.

Batman delivers a wicked haymaker to my kidneys. I seize up for a second and turn on him. Matching punch for vicious punch as best I can with one arm, and kick for savage kick, the fight seems to go on forever. He hits me in my damaged arm, white pain blinds my vision. I pull my Kris knife and slice him across the chest, drawing blood. Thanks to Talia, she gave me a replica of the Ra's al Ghul's knife, which cuts through all material.

_"When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we'll see"_

Batman's shock was long enough for me to make my way to Nightwing, who was picking himself up. I grab him aggressively and put him in a choke hold. My knife starts moving towards his now exposed throat. Batman throws a batarang towards me which slices through the air, severing my carotid artery. Damn old man, aiming for my shoulder and misses.

_"If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall, and the mountain should crumble to the sea"_

I weaken my grasp on Nightwing, prompting him to turn and roundhouse kick me in the chest. The energy sends me flying into a column, shattering my helmet and fracturing this ribcage of mine.

I start to move my hands but they have no power behind them, they fumble with my med kit on my utility belt and fall helplessly to my side. I keep trying, my limbs do not seem to be working properly. A dark fog dances with my soul, and raggedy breaths are haunting the cavernous room.

Batman stalks over, shining a light on my near lifeless body, finding remnants of my broken mask littered about. The once prime physical form resorted to a heap of bones and flesh. The hoarseness of my breathing becomes shallower and shallower. Batman quickly sees why. Blood was pumping out of my neck to the verse of my song coming to an end.

psh. psh psh. psh..psh... psh......psh..

The flashlight drops with a booming echo as Batman realizes who it was, "Jason!" he barely manages to stammer.

"You broke your rule for me," as my voice fades.

I make eye contact through my black hair spilling over my face and give him a sly smirk. I try to form words, but nothing is working. Panic racks my brain. Hyperventilation starts to come up from the bottom of my flail chest.

_"Whenever you're in trouble you just stand by me"_

Bruce falls to my side and cradles me, Nightwing is crouched in front of me trying to get the bleeding under control but to no avail. The floor slick with blood. They were getting frantic and mortally realize there is nothing to be done. The darkness, I found, was terribly comfortable.

_"No I won't be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me."_

 

You can hear a pin drop as Batman carried my mangled body out of the building to his waiting batmobile, and solemnly laid me out on a medical table in the batcave. Alfred is shocked to his core as Bruce and Dick stand there, soaked in my blood. Batman silently with regret and sadness etched deeply on his face collapses next to the table. Nightwing is outside of the door unable to move any further. Guilt racks the unshakable men.


	2. Eurus

Ta-dum ta-dum, ta-dum ta-dum. 

The war drums echo down the hall. Realizing it was my own heartbeat, it grew to an irritating decibel. The green remnants of the Lazarus Pit dance through my veins. There is something scratching under the surface of my eyes. With the last pale light of the west, an east wind starts to stir my soul.

My hand felt heavy, I roll my sluggish head to the side, Bruce was sitting on the floor, chest bandaged, face buried in his knees holding onto one of my hands. I was laying like a suckling pig on a cold hard table, I would kill to have an apple right now. I pull my hand out of his to check the wound on my neck, discovering a nasty scar covering the location. Why? Haven't I died enough? My breath catches as pain knacks my chest, my flail section does not sink in when I press it gingerly with my fingers and my broken arm is on the mend. I stare at the ceiling contemplating my options. 

An eternity later, Bruce hasn't moved, silently sleeping, twitching with nightmares plaguing his brain. The hunger gnawing at my stomach becomes too much to ignore, and I find my way to the kitchen.

The spotless kitchen is exactly how I remember it. The horseshoe shape of granite counters, black cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. Everything has its spot. The row of bar stools on the opposite side of the high counter, where I would sit when I would sneak down and have a late night snack. Alfred would catch me, of course, and we would end up talking all night.

The glow from the refrigerator burns my eyes until they adjust, almost instantly focusing on a chunk of pork roast. There is a stirring behind me as I take a bite. 

Alfred.

I smile, "Good morning!"

He faints.

"Well, thats a first," I shrug and say to no one in particular and continue gnawing on the roast. 

Bruce and Dick race to the kitchen, unsure of what to do when they see Alfred lying on the floor and me stuffing my face. 

"What did you do?", Dick shouts, his voice barely able to contain his anger and heads straight towards me. 

"Good morning to you too. Want me to give you another beat down?" I nod and stick my finger in the nasty laceration on the side of his head.

Dick cranks one of my arms behind my back and I can't do much with the other, so I don't try to break loose.

Dick starts to ask something as Alfred starts stirring, but I ignore him.

My clothes are a mess, dried blood cascading down my side, a makeshift cast holds my once broken arm. My eyes are wild from the effect of the Lazarus Pit and I'm not giving a fuck about anything in the moment. The therapists in Arkham would have a field day with me.

Dick twists harder, obviously trying to make me confess, "what did you do to him?"

"Must have been my good looks," which angers Dick even more.

I gasp as my arm is being twisted into an even more unnatural position.

Bruce aggressively looks at us, "How?" 

"I must be jesus, or a zombie. Zombie jesus?" I ask with a perplexed look on my face honestly questioning the possibility. 

Alfred is finally coherent, "Master Jason, it has been a year since we buried you. What happened?"

Bruce asks Alfred, "He didn't hurt you?" In which Alfred shakes his head no and Bruce orders Dick to release my arm. Dick, in response, gives my arm a final twist and lets me go.

"Jesus," Dick starts to say and grabs the back of his neck. 

"Yes?" I cut him off and look at him with an innocent expression cleverly marked on my face. I pick up the roast and eat as they stand flabbergasted. Wondering what in the hell they should do. Bruce's impatience was growing and it showed. 

"Would you stop gnawing on that, cut it up." Bruce shakes his head incredulously. 

I look at the roast, back at Bruce and it lands with a wet thud on the counter. I slowly pull a large chefs knife from the block and inspect it, knowing I won't find flaws. I gave the three of them a devilish glance and watch them become more uneasy. I give a slight laugh, more than obviously pleased with myself. 

"Hey Dickie boy why don't you come over here and give me a hand since you know, you twisted the shit out of this one?" I didn't expect him to move, nor does he make any effort too. 

"Well," I shrug and kebab the roast chunk down the middle and eat it off the knife. 

"Stop!" Bruce says in an authoritative voice, "What happened?"

"Since you so nicely asked. A turn of unfortunate events landed me in a coffin. Imagine my surprise when I woke up stuffed in a box, everything hurt, and no one could hear my screams. So I clawed my way out, choking on dirt. By the way, your coffin maker builds really sturdy coffins. Was a bitch and a half to get out of there. I found myself wandering into traffic and was promptly brought to Gotham Hospital in which I had a lovely stay. Granted, I was in a coma most of the time. Due to the fact Joker beat and blew me up! But when I woke up they said I was asking for a Frank? No, that doesn't sound right. A Brice? No, Bruce! That was it! Surprise, surprise no one came. I overheard some doctors talking about sending me to Arkham Asylum, that was the place where you put Joker. Several times. So I escaped and was living on the streets until Talia al Gul found me and sparta kicked me into a Lazarus Pit. Must be some part of the pit swimming around in these vessels of mine, unfortunately. I died once, wasn't that enough? Why do I have to keep coming back? Next time I keel over, please throw me into the nearest incinerator. It seems the man upstairs has a cruel sense of humor," I say with exuberance as I was waving the roast skewered on a knife around emphasizing each point, "Did the dirt even settle before you replaced me?"

There was a deep sadness in Bruce's eyes, something I never saw before. They were chewing on questions in their minds. I continued.

"Its alright if you kill me, but what I want to know, why isn't the Joker dead yet?" I fling the roast off and point the knife at Bruce, "I'm not talking about killing Penguin, or Scarecrow, or Dent. I'm talking about him, just him. And doing it because he took me away from you. You keep doing this evil little dance with the devil and every one else gets hurt!"

"If I allow myself to cross that line, if I allow myself to go down into that place. I'll never come back." 

I give him a look to continue.

He doesn't know what to say except for, "I'm sorry."

"At least you don't need to have my death weighing on your conscience. I'm going to take my leave. I have a criminal organization to run, and Joker should be out of Arkham by now," I say as I walk by Bruce.

A hand firmly lands on my chest, I look at it and look up at the man who put it there. I match his steel eyed gaze and neither of us budge. 

This has to end. I swipe his hand off my chest and grab him by the neck, the tip of the knife is pressed into his skin, drawing blood, while pushing him back out of the kitchen, hatred and rage burning in my eyes. 

When I get to the front door I whisper aggressively, "I'm going to do what you were not able too!" 

"Jason! You kill one more person, what ever the reason, I'm coming after you!" He yells to my back as I take my leave.


	3. Retribution

A week after I left the manor, I had Joker in an apartment building. I left a trail of bodies to get Bats back on my case. Our confrontation ends up being on an adjacent roof to my safe house.

"Hood!"

His voice stops me in my tracks and my back tenses. 

"Let us help you!" 

I turn on the balls of my feet, ready to engage. 

"What you're doing is reckless," I interrupt him with a punch, snapping his head back.

Our fight was brutal, we both had anger to work out and violently took it out on each other. We circle each other like wild animals, I whip off my helmet, throwing it to Batman. He stops as he hears a beep and chucks the helmet as it explodes. I turned to run because he needs to see the final act. Batman was going to make a choice. I make it to the edge of the building when Batman tackles me from behind. The momentum torpedoing us off and into the window of a bathroom. I was stunned for a moment too long. Batman picks me up and roughly slams me with a sickening thud into the wall, I feel the tiles crunch as my shoulders and head make contact. I'm dazed and begin to fall forward. Batman was not done. He catches me and flingings me into the door, then kicks me in the chest with enough force, sending me through. I roll over, slowly stumbling as I get up and make my way behind Joker, roped to a chair in the middle of a room. My ribs and head are burning with pain. 

"I am going to bring you to jail," he starts to say as he comes into the room. 

I pull a gun, the barrel ruffles my sweat streaked black hair, as if contemplating what to do. I grab a fist full of Joker's faded greasy green hair, yanking his head to the side and place the cold gun on his temple saying, "The only way to stop me is either kill him, or stop me from killing him." 

In his gruff voice, "I'm not going to kill any of you!"

I throw him an extra gun, and he promptly discards it, "Jason, I am not killing anyone tonight!"

"Him! Or me!", I point the gun at the larger than life figure standing across the room. 

I hated the man before me for not choosing between saving this scum or his so-called son. I pull the trigger, the bullet sinking between the armor plates into Batman's shoulder. In return, he launches a batarang at my hand. The fact I actually hit him, is not lost on him, he finally sees Jason for what he is. Nothing more than a killer who needs to be brought to justice. 

I drop the gun as Joker starts howling with laughter. Batman moves in to incapacitate me, I pull out a detonator as he screams, "No!"

 

The thunderous sound deafens the neighborhood. The walls tumble in ash and dust. Leaving Batman buried beneath the rumble. Hoping Joker went up in a cloud of pink mist, I limp away from the smoldering heap without looking back. If this was how Batman wanted to play then so be it. I'll take his archaic version of justice, and indulge him of mine.


	4. Hurt

My bloody reign ran for the next six months and the crime rate drops drastically. My crimson tide brought the deaths of crime lords, their lieutenants, and associates as I took over their territory. The papers say the toll was in the hundreds, I didn't bother keeping track. I let anger run fluidly through my veins, anyone who would get in my way ended up a bloody mess. I ended up on the most wanted list for Gotham and many of the surrounding cities. People were calling for Batman to stop me, and a bounty was placed on my head by the remaining Dons.

 

Currently, I am scoping out a gun shipment down at the docks. The cool ocean breeze was a break from the blazing sun beating down on my back. Only downside it brought was a fishy smell wafting in my direction. I need to resupply and make more caches. There only seemed to be a few guards patrolling the grounds, it's going to be an easy smash and grab.

By the time I make my move, the day was nearing an end. The setting sun spilled a beautiful orange, and pink across the sky. Small wispy clouds littered the vast expanse. I was taken away for a moment, thinking about my circumstances and how life led me here. 

Eh, fuck it. 

Guns come out, and the first few criminals I see go down. Out of nowhere a bullet slams into my leg. It enters the top of my thigh from behind and exits near the front middle. A gaping wound, I collapse as my leg buckles. The gravel beneath me takes on a dark red color. I struggle to flip over and search for the perpetrator. My vision blurs as I see a ghostly image of a gentleman walking towards me, flames stabbing the evening air. Another tug on my lower abdomen, and a another burns my ribcage. Pain slowly replaces the adrenaline as I try staunch the blood flow.

I had to get out of there. I kill the guy. As he falls, his jacket opens and has a badge pinned to the inside. I freeze staring at the copper piece, mouth agape. My mind runs a million miles an hour. What an inconvenience, I sigh as I struggle to get up, and make my way to the corner of a building. Out of my peripherals, I see Batman, Red Robin, and Nightwing arrive on scene. Their undercover operation went to shit, its one thing killing criminals but a whole other can of worms killing an officer. Everyone and their grandmother is going to come after me, I have to find a place and lay low for a while. 

 

Batman orders Red Robin to follow Jason at a distance with strict instructions not to engage. Batman can only guess at his mental state and wants a plan before moving in. 

 

My apartment is an old one. The rusty hinges, peeled paint, and creaking doors spoke to me in a way that said home. Not my typical kind of place but it does it's job. I grab a bottle of whiskey and relax as the amber liquid runs down my throat. I down nearly the whole bottle and the layers of drunkenness eventually roll upon me as I stumble through my place, tipping from side to side tossing me further into my subconscious. I find a certain blissfulness to it. I close my eyes as the waves crash upon the so called beach, eroding the sand of bad memories away. I rip my shirt and pants off assessing the damage along the way. The injuries on my ribs, lower abdomen, and the entry wound on my leg were easy to stitch up, by the time I start the cavernous exit hole of a wound, my hands are shaking and black spots dance in my eyes. Sweat moistened my pale face, I bring the curved needle to my raw flesh with a quick breath, blinking to focus my eyes. 

 

Unbeknownst to me, Batman and the gang are watching the painfully slow process through the window. They decided I've had enough because they crash through the window, my reactions were sluggish with my alcohol slurred mind. I instinctively reach for my pistol and start shaking turbulently as taser prongs penetrate my skin. I try fight the excruciating pain, failing miserably. The peace and serenity comes with it, even though it is only momentarily, I welcome it with open arms and want it to last forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier. Cool artist, y'all should check them out.


End file.
